Rapid-text :  An In-comprehensive guide to officers who join airport. Learn airport customs work in 30 minutes. Working in airport is a dream job or at least would seem so as you are always sleepy whether you are on or off the duty.  If you are posted there, don’t delay in joining. 62 times airport glass panels have fallen. Unless it falls and kills someone, our govt won’t change anything. So Please join and bring a change ! ABCD of the job is Airport, Baggage, Check and Detain. That’s all. If you are good, you will be blamed by people in CP grams! If you are very good, your name will feature in TV also!!  Purchase white uniform (Stitch pants with elastic at the hips), marker (for marking bags) and a knife (for checking luggage). Learn how to scan the bags thoroughly. I was told to mark all black images and I had been marking all black bags for one month till my BS questioned ‘why this racism’ ! If you are posted at Hand Baggage Scan, you will get opportunity to see a lot of beautiful passengers. But stick to your scanner image till you become senior. Seniors can watch two sceneries at the same time by rotating both eyes separately! Nowadays passengers are returning to mother India with murderous rage due to demonetisation, flight delay and TV duty. They will wait for days in the immigration on foreign soil and not a minute in Indian mud. If you stop them, they will turn into Hulk!  So learn verbal karate, verbal kung fu and all bad words. I can scold you nonstop in Chinese, Korean as well as Japanese. When you can’t fight, call Customs Sepoys. Indian blood is afraid of Khaki Uniforms from pre-independence period.  I have seen many bahubalis melt in front of our khaki-clad sepoys. Collecting duty for TV is the biggest challenge in airport. Bargaining will be going on in all TV counters like village cattle market. No one wants to pay duty to the Government. Their stand is that why should they pay duty to a country which is still developing 71 years after independence. Even an ape would have evolved into a man by this time. But they didn’t know that every week we are sending a businessman with 1000 crores to London and we plan to purchase England sometime! If you are an atheist while joining the airport, trust me. You will become an ardent devotee while quitting the airport as you are certain to face cascade of problems. I became devotee of Lord Rama, Vishnu, Allah, Jesus, Raghavendra and Dharmendra. Name hardly matters. If a stone with flowers is found, I pray ! After my shift duties, I used to reside at temples.   You will find new positions in sleeping. If you are found hanging upside down and sleeping like owl, tell your family not to bother. Tell them its new “Pathanjali Yoga”. You can meet all VIPs and Cine stars who will be cordial. Once I asked actor Kattappa why he killed Bahubali. He replied that Bahubali was also asking unnecessary questions ! I worked as PRO as well which was like chicken in briyani! (icing on the cake). Working as PRO is one and half times tougher than working as officer. PROs used to command earlier. Now they take care of demands from passengers as PRO has become Public Restraining Officer. PROs walk a lot. I was 7 feet when I joined airport and now only 5 ½ feet. I discovered that missing feet in my stomach. The PRO who replaced me is already 3 ft. I wonder what will happen to him?   My friend who joined airport, resembled a baby elephant then.  Now he already looks like a pregnant elephant.     PROs will face a few problems too.. Someone would invariably call us at the ungodly hours during our sleep. Once someone called me at 02.30 am and asked who is in charge there? I blinked and told ‘My Wife’. He told ‘No Yaar’, “Which AC is working?”  I told “Samsung AC”.  He hung up. Another day I was woken up by siren sound at 0100 am (my  Whatsapp sound).  Someone sent me a video showing a wife killing her sleeping husband by throwing a big stone on his head. I couldn’t sleep after that.   From that day I put my phone in ‘Husband’ (quiet) mode during night time. Once a VIP in full booze was to be seen off by a PRO friend.  The facility was so impressed by my friend’s calibre, he kissed the PRO on his longest forehead (?) and took off. The PRO returned spitting all the way. Another time, a person had requested a PRO for domestic entry. The PRO went to Chennai domestic terminal and searched. Both were at domestic but couldn’t spot each other. After playing hide and seek for half an hour, my PRO found that the other guy was in Trichy airport and had requested for facility there! My friend returned and was seen shouting  @*$%#  Keep working in airport till you start getting hallucinations. I started to stare at the woman’s necks for 24 ct gold chains even at my family functions.  Once I thought of taking a guest who came to my house for physical checking. Then it worsened.  I started to look at the crotches of the men on the road for hidden gold. If this happens to you, then its high time to take transfer. Till then happy Checking.  

Ek, do, teen…. Kalash ! It was the initial stages of my Air Force Career in saving the nation.   Like Herculus, I was lifting the whole nation on my tender shoulders. Like a true ISO, Agmark tamilian, I didn’t know Hindi. The only hindi word I knew was “Jai Hind” and only hindi song I knew was “Jana, gana, mana…”.  Later I came to know that even that was not hindi.  My thirst for Hindi was born by Tezaab movie.  I learnt one, two, three in hindi from Madhuri’s ek, do, teen… song only.  When I saw her dance, I immediately understood that Hindi was the best language !  How I craved Madhuri to be my teacher! As Madhuri gave one hit movie after other, my love for Hindi also grew ! Before Tezaab happened, I had never seen a hindi film in my life apart from those black and white news reels played in the cinema halls.  Screening them was compulsory in those days.   Mostly Gandhi ji used to walk in fast mode in those reels and it would be whirring and blurring. Then some alien voice would recite some mantras in hindi.  Then 5,4,3,2 and 1 will come in circles and then the movie would start. I thought they were the warning for the late comers. When I told my friends that I would also go to Tezaab movie alongwith them, they suspected my mental health at first.   Mostly I went to see Madhuri after seeing her in Chitrahaar.  It was like watching Chinese movie in china. I understood nothing. To see her face, I had to bear the hairy face of Anil kapoor and hairless face of Anupam kher. Then came the much awaited ek, do, teen… song.  What a song and dance! My body, heart and soul swayed alongwith Madhuri’s movements especially those scintillating back steps shaking her hip as if it was another body. People went delirious and berserk. If Gandhiji had seen that mob, he would have walked backwards and returned the independence.  The euphoria lasted 7 minutes. When the song was over, the crowd left the theatre. Madhuri carried the movie successfully at the box office on her hips.  It was the beginning of a new era. Indians changed their heart’s wallpaper from Sridevi to Madhuri.  When Beta was released, Indians heartbeat also changed from ‘tick’ ‘tick’ to ‘dhak’ ‘dhak’.  It continued till Nene, Madhuri’s husband came and stopped our heartbeat. If Madhuri had come to the intellectual state “Tamil Nadu”, we would have built a temple and named her as “Madhuri Amman.”  After her retirement, we would have made her Chief Minister and fallen flat on her feet ! Yesterday I heard the song again with minuscule difference. First I thought Madhuri had come up with another dance to teach hindi to my grandchildren. Still I found something was amiss. After all it was like my family song.  I searched in Youtube and found the new ek, do, teen in baaghi 2 film. Much to my horror, my nuptial bond with that song got severed with a bang.  When ek, do, teen was sung, the dancer started to run as in 100m race and I ran for my life.  Her dance movements resembled belly fat reduction exercises.  She was rotating her stomach like yogi Ramdev.  Her gyrations lacked elegance and Madhuri’ innocent face with a killing look was missing.It is always better to leave out the classics. Nowadays our musician hulks take an old song, add 2 tsp rap music, 3 tsp rock music and 1 tsp gasoline and burn them.  After hearing their song, you won’t like to hear the original as well.   Indian Mozarts and hazards must realise that the old magic can never be recreated.  These songs are interwoven in our lives and part of us. Remember! If this trend continues, we ‘not so much’ youngsters have no choice but to go to marina beach again.

It has been two years since I started to perform airport night duties. 25 or more flights at night. Can’t wink for a sec. Evolution has taken over and my body parts are changing. Eyes have become wider like owl. Front teeth have become fangs like a dracula’s and daylight burns me. My stomach which goes ahead of me all the time remains confused and wakes me every night at 2 am for lunch. Last week doctor consoled me not to be afraid of ‘that’ brown thing that runs in my veins. Its called “Coffee”. I am habituated to night duties at last. Still I miss the time between 2 and 3 am. Don’t know if I am turning into a werewolf. Earlier I used to get confused with the day and date. Now I have improved. I get confused with the month. Nowadays I wonder how normal people sleep all nights without working! I have a list of numbers whom I keep dialling between 3 am and 4 am and ask doubts about bank loans and free sims ! We get plenty of stuff at night to satiate the hunger. So what started as a time-killer changed into a regular meal and now I go to night duty for eating alone. Different challenges await a Customs officer at airport. Most challenging is in front of the doorframe. We have to stand and check the passengers for any hidden gold. When the passengers walk through the doorframe, lights will come on, if they have a bit of metal in their body. After removing watch, phone, belt, keys and coins, if the lights come on, our eyes will be lit with the expectation of hidden gold. But many times it will be “thayathu” or “arainan kayiru”. If you tell them to remove, they will fight like Bruce Lee as they were tied by their mothers before travel. Since it’s time consuming, we frisk their bodies with our hands after their consent. As many airlines offer free liquor, we receive many drunken masters who are drunk upto their neck and smell like gutter. If he breathes in your face, your head will spin, whirl and roll. Many passengers spray too! Many feel that God made crotches for storing valuables as in lockers. Consequently we may have to rub 100 to 200 lockers daily for gold. We have found necklaces, gold biscuits and bangles there. We have some exceptional officers who make the passengers to dance by doing this spa massage at those places. We encounter different types of passengers daily. One will say “ Why do you touch there? It’s prohibited !” Another will enjoy the routine and say “ Sir overa? Check again thoroughly sir.” One will tighten the butts and stand stiff. I tell “ Relax yar. I am not going to give you any injection.” Another will raise his hands, spread his legs and like “X” in capital letter. I tell “I can’t do piles operation, So close up” Another day one of my colleagues was very excited and whispered to me “sir, that fellow must be having at least one kilo gold in his brief and I felt it with my hands. ” Later we found only hydrocele! My sincere request to the passengers… Please don’t wet your brief before or after going to bathroom. We couldn’t eat properly after checking through them. Wearing shorts may reduce your age and show you like a youngster. But please wear your undergarments too. Trust me. It’s not injurious to health. Passengers think we are responsible for flight delays, missing bags and airport non-existent facilities. Daily I reduce the tension of 50 passengers by showing them the way to bathroom. Yesterday one passenger asked me “When will you deliver my missing bag?” I told him that airlines only could tell that. He countered me “But you are in charge of the airport.” I replied him ‘Well, I didn’t fly your plane”. He replied “If you had flown the plane, I would have become missing” and went away. When our saviours come to relieve us at 7 am, I will be ready to sleep anywhere. I have slept in car parking, red signals and while driving. Still the legacy continues… ashoka-the-2nd.blogspot.in

🎺My musical journey…🎼🎼🎼 After a lot of research, I booked my bus ticket in KPN Bus Service from Salem to Chennai last week. Semi Sleeper, AC bus, Volvo comfort, window seat and all those stuff. I cheerfully boarded the bus and sank into the bucket seat. My neighbour was a thin fellow which meant armrest was mine. It was dusk and I loved the music and scenery. I might have dozed a bit, suddenly when a terrifying sound woke me up. It was like the bus had met with an accident or had just missed one. But everything remained calm for a moment. Then again that roaring sound made me to jump from the seat. To my disgust, I saw my neighbour snoring like a stranded whale. He was a thin fellow with small nose but made that trumpeting sound. Till then I had only seen elephants make that sound with long noses. I was aghast and didn’t know how to face that calamity. It was like opening a rusted drawer and shutting it. To my utter dismay, everyone else was sitting as if nothing had happened. Again my nemesis drew air like submarine and horned like a ship. Both sounds were different. I sincerely wanted to hit his face with a shovel. Instead I woke him up and told him “You are snoring very loud”. That guy grinned at me and told “Sorry. My wife also tells this.” I asked him, “When did you marry?”. He told “Before a month”. I thought that soon She would run away or ask for divorce. Then I asked him “How is she managing?”. He replied “She sleeps in the other room”. Honestly if I were her, I would have slept on the road. I have heard people snore. By God, this one was from another level. It’s like scratching the wall with nails or dragging the steel cupboard on the concrete floor. Again we tried to sleep. Actually, I tried and he slept. After 5 minutes, again he blazed the ship siren. I sat and watched his twitching mouth. It quivered and shuddered. It followed a pattern. He roared three times but changed the sound on the fourth. Then the symphony repeated. I watched all the calm passengers wondering whether I had booked ticket in “deaf and dumb” bus. No one seemed to care. Just then another person from the front seat made a squeaking sound and started to snore in a different pitch. I understood that my sleep had become a myth and had to survive that night. Stuffing cotton in my ear or wearing turbon or wearing helmet or mummifying my head and the like. I bumped on my seat partner a bit hard voluntarily. Snoring stopped for a while. Again he started to snore with vengeance. I jabbed him a bit. He stopped and re-started.I opened google to see “how to survive a snoring neighbour”. It showed “how to survive a snoring husband”. I saw my husband (!) for a second. Whatever….!(i) Roll him over – Actually I wanted to roll him off the bus.(ii) Use nasal strips – I wanted to use strangling rope. (iii) Use big pillow under his head – I would use a bigger pillow over his face and hold it tight till snoring stopped.(iv) Give him a hot bath, Be understanding, change bed, change pillow blah blah… Changing husband would have been the best option. By that time two more passengers had joined the orchestra, all in different pitches. A lady was also growling (33% you see). Each made a different sound. When one drew, another howled. It was like sleeping in the zoo amidst all animals. A fat man in the nearby seat also started to SNORE. He drew air heartily and tremored while exhaling. Further sounds had started to come from all corners. One was landing and taking off his flight. Another had switched on the wet grinder. One was hooting and hissing. All will fall silent when the bus shook and return after a brief interval. I went to the driver and asked if i can drive the bus or be a helper to check tyre pressure and clean the windshields. Pitying me, the driver accommodated me with his helper. Inside the bus, all animals that had escaped the Jurassic park were trying to eat one another. A bit of calmness slowly returned to me and I closed my eyes. Then my helper started his engine…

  Last week I underwent Master health up and found no extra groceries of Sugar or salt in my body to feel proud or boast of. Not even air pressure or blood pressure. When all my friends discuss Insulin and Storvas, I feel left out. I am going to be alone after all my friends pass away!            Doctor told me that nowadays more and more people are getting affected by Vitamin D deficiency. Reason : Not getting enough sun light. How can it happen in Chennai! God’s mother in law land !!           Means people are not playing outside but have downloaded jogging and walking Apps for exercising. Or must’ve been stuck up with Fb and Whatsapp. So after liking this post, please go out in the sun and continue to browse. Because We will never know when wife goes missing but will immediately know when Wifi is missing.             Take plenty of Vitamin D rich foods. Drink milk like a calf or Dhoni. Go nuts over nuts. Eat all type of fishes. Don’t bother about it’s names. Salmon, swordfish, mackerel. What the heck! As Shakespeare said, “A Fish by any other name would taste as sweet”. Other Vitamin D rich foods are Cod liver Oil, Tofu, Fortified cereals and Caviar. If you don’t understand any of these, Stand outside.            For Tamil Nadu Public, It’s time Complan and Horlicks companies come out with Vitamin D powder that can be mixed with spirits.            Cheers.

          The five days crash course on parade for Republic Day was happily concluded on Jan 26.  Being the Parade Commander, I put in my best efforts sincerely and had developed a few more friends who are now happy to send me back to Kolkata. This Parade consisted of the most difficult contingent I have ever trained.  At the end of the crash course, I “passed out” as I had developed all type of pains like physical strain and mental drain except labour pain.  I still don’t know whether I paraded them or they paraded me.  I have even developed a seventh sense called ‘nonsense”. The ironies felt were… 1.  They came in white uniform if you agree milky white, vanila white and ujaala white are the same with wrinkles as in the face of English bull dog.   2.  One person came to the parade with more hair than my wife.  3.  Many came from docks night duty with bloodshot eyes and my first thought was to to hug and cry as I myself went after airport night duty. 4.  Some wore the name tab and brooch on the opposite sides but the award went to the one who wore the epaulettes in the opposite direction. 5.  Many were of my father’s age and I was confused whether to call out “Parade Sowthan” or “Parents Sowthan”. When they walked to the beat, earth dithered, music drums tremored and the contingent actually shivered.  6.  My first whole day went on explaining which is ‘dhainey’ (right) and ‘baye’ (left). But When I gave the command to turn, they always turned to all sides and settled like Navagraha statues in Siva temple. Second day when I went there, for a second, I wondered whether I had   gone to the adjoining Collector Office as the whole contingent was different as I used to get new contingents daily.  Again I went on to preach left, right, north, South. As they always had doubts on right turn and left turn.  I made it simple.  While going to Flag post only Right turn was given and while coming back only Left turn. And it worked. 7.  The tapping sound on the command Sowthan never came together and ultimately I had to tell them to stamp their feet without a single sound. And We got it together! 8.  They were so patriotic.  When the “Salami Sasth” was given they automatically saluted along with me.  As only the Commander has to salute and all others are to remain in attention, I had to beg them to stop saluting. Except that they were consistently inconsistent.  9.  When they marched even the Chief Guest held his breath. 10.  When the flag hoisting was  success, My Parade in charge wanted to recommend my name for “Bharath Ratna”.  I politely declined. At least they got their independence from me. As I am appointed as the permanent Parade Commander, I am waiting for mine.

Kitchen is the most important room in the house. Our lifespan is decided here. A right potion in wrong quantity or wrong potion in right quantity can rest you in the restroom for the rest of the day.Since my childhood, I was never allowed into the kitchen for fear of burning down the house. Hence, cooking was never my cup of tea. Further, I got a golden arm for breaking things. So kitchen was placed out of bounds for me. Occasionally I managed to steal jaggery, and horlicks. During the course if anything was broken, I was invariably summoned. If the stove didn’t burn, my mother will look at me like “Did you?”. If fire truck entered my street, my father would ask “Got anything to say?”.So I never cooked anything apart from stories. It continued till my first marriage. I mean my only marriage! Reason for stating like this is that, during those days I was blessed with neighbours who had married twice. First wife dead or divorced. So I used to talk to my wife about second marriage longingly till one day she said “If you continue talking like this, I will marry again and you will bless me from heaven!”.Most of friends cook a bit but talk a lot. When they were alone and try new dishes, I was always invited. One fellow asked me how it was after a non-veg treat and I asked him how did he prepare that Chicken sambar? He never invited me after that. Whenever I visit them, they would be in south indian cooking dress i.e lungi and lungi alone. It’s useful to wipe your face as well as kitchen glove.I was working in Hyderabad one time and I must have got up on the wrong side of the bed and it dawned on me that I was destined to be the greatest cook of all time. My wife had gone to Salem. The distance of 770 kms emboldened me to cook.Women always boast of cooking. Is it that hard? Just add 1 glass of rice, 2 glass of water and 3 whistle. That’s all. I decided to start from rice, sambar and slowly move on to land-food, seafood and junk food. After all, the top chefs in the world are men.My wife ‘cooker’ always used milk cooker, rice cooker and coffee cooker, I mean maker. So, cooking rice must be a piece of cake. I entered the kitchen remembering 1,2,3. Took a glass of rice in a Container (not a Customs term). Quick washed, rinsed and dried it like washing machine. Then poured 2 glass of water. But there were 2, 3 cookers of large sizes. As my wife’s family is like Mahabharat Gaurava’s family, all utensils were so big that the bottom of the cooker was not visible from the top. Hence, I placed the container inside the cooker. Right then my mother called me. She was brimming with pride. I didn’t know how the news spread like cooking fire !She asked me about the menu and gave some tips ! I crosschecked my 1,2,3 formula. I searched for lighter or a match stick for half an hour and called my wife thinking how irresponsible she was. She replied “God, I had told you many times, it’s auto ignition”. I slammed the phone down. Cursing myself, went inside and ignited the racket boosters. Again got a call from my brother in law. He uttered some encouraging words like “Why do you cook unnecessarily. Go to Sudha hotel as you always do.” I cut the call. “The society will always mock you when you aim to reach higher goals”.I returned to the kitchen. Time was ticking like bomb and no whistle. White smoke was fuming. I nervously loitered like pregnant woman and called my mom. She again confirmed 1,2 and 3. When I returned to the kitchen, the white smoke has turned into black and the room was like war zone. If smoke detector had been installed, I would have become world famous and got Oscars for food. All the apartment mates were at my door enquiring why was I celebrating ‘Bogi’ inside my house.I panicked and switched off the stove and opened the cooker. Whole rice had burnt and the cooker was totally black inside. Safety valve and gasket had evaporated into thin air. The cooker looked as if I had stolen it from Hiroshima. Shell shocked, I stood there feeling numb. Again the phone rang and it was my wife. Whenever a husband wrongs, wife will know. That 7th sense is called Wife’s sense. I was senseless for a second. I told all was well and dropped the phone. I called my mother. I narrated my “Operation Food” in detail. She asked “Did you pour water outside the container?” I sat aghast thinking about my imminent crucification and firing squad.Next day, I mustered enough courage and told my wife. She consoled me politely saying “Don’t you have at least common sense?” I heard her voice from Salem without phone. I retired from cooking then and there. She keeps that cooker as a souvenir. Till this day, whenever she sees the black cooker she utters “No common sense at all.”While looking back, If I had poured water outside the container that day who knows, I might have gone on to become a world chef or CM of Tamil Nadu.  

Jallikattu is debated for two reasons. (1) Animal cruelty (2) Human injuries. When you are PETA and want to talk about animal cruelty, please don’t bother about humans as they are opposite sides of the same coin. If you feel humans evolved from Gorilla and so you care about them, then kindly fight against liquor in our state which claims more human lives than Jallikattu.PETA is American invention that has come to fight for animals. People who don’t treat other humans equally due to their colour now have come to fight for animals. When they say they care about animals, we couldn’t forget their search for mass destruction weapons in Iraq and nurturing of saddam and Osama for freedom of their countries. Remember Jallikattu is older than America itself.When a few Tamil actors support PETA, we don’t mind at all. But when you get national award by indulging cocks into fight in the film but preach animal cruelty, we feel irritated. As George Bush said “Either you are with us or against us”.Coming back into the issue, Jallikattu is our tradition and pride. Bulls are trained like race horses or tamed like elephants. They are nourished with rich diet and extreme care. Watching their shape and posture itself is a treat to the eyes. Now don’t question why such a thing is your pride. Culture is different place to place. Don’t measure our tradition with your yardstick.Are we killing the bulls as they do in Spanish bullfight? I wonder why PETA didn’t fight against Swizz bull fighting, Turkey camel fighting and many more. In that sense isn’t it cruel to cage the animals or use it for lab experiments ? Can you raise your voice against camel qurbani during Ramadan ?Yes it is true that we hug the tail. It’s just to move on to the horns as it is virtually impossible to go face to face against our lovely beasts.We are ready to play Jallikattu in videogames the day you conduct your court proceeding without any prejudice. Cases go on for a decade, deer commit suicide but when necessary bails are granted in two hours. Laws have come to punish doctors when they err. What about judges who make mistakes in the judgments. Why no law or ordinance is made to set a level playing field. I think it’s time.On the second point, when you talk about injuries to human, it is always common in any sport. Why don’t you ban boxing and WWF where one beats another into pulp. People have died in cricket, golf even in chess ! So will you ban them also. Further in Jallikattu people participate willingly. So why does it bother you?Ours is a culture that has a separate festival for cattle and we would never hurt them.Hope better sense prevail and law permits us again to conduct Jallikattu. We are eagerly awaiting to watch our bulls coming out of Vaadivaasal.

Gender-less dressing …         Recently a premier store in England kick-started a gender neutral fashion campaign by introducing unisex store to endorse genderless dressing to show the equality between the genders. Now men and women can dress the same like olden times when they wore leaves and danced around the fire.         This is such an amazing invention in front of which innovation of fire and Modi will pale.  This will surely alleviate the poverty in third world countries and solve earth warming.  This phenomenon will rank just after “gender change operation”. We are not afraid of this change. South Indians’ casual dress itself is the long skirt called “lungi”.  We often fold it near the knee and wear it as a mini skirt. Remember we wear lungi only lungi without any back up also!  Next if the westerners invented a ribbon to wear between the legs, we are ready. Our farmers’ national dress itself is ‘langodu’.  We have seen and withstood these scary dressing for some time. Half the men crash-landing in airport are in shorts flaunting their skinny, hairy and curved legs ! So we are ready. Our much loved hero ‘Bag piper’ wears skirt for a long time.          I hope it is introduced in India soon.  Our ITians, the trendsetters will be the first to dress up/down (whatever you call) in skirt. They will rotate and let the skirt flow in the air. Half the traffic will go blind.   I hope that they don’t lift their skirt to wipe their faces. My neighbour’s family from grandpa to grandchild who roam in shorts will be seen in frocks hereafter.  After all Birds of the same feather will ‘frock’ together  !         Skirts with low hips will be the killer combination.  Love it or Live it.              I get goosebumps to imagine our gentlemen going to offices in skirts. I wish to see some of our Netas wearing skirts and fight in the parliament.  They will pass some rule as who can wear long skirt and who can wear mini skirt.  Our uniformed men in Police and Customs will burn the streets with this outfit. My doubts are : (i)          How runners and football players will manage when they run in skirts ? (ii)        If people die in skirts, will the ghosts hereafter come and threaten me in skirts ? (iii)      People who have already shortened their trousers to shorts, what will they wear next ? One good thing is that we can order skirts or frocks for the whole family during festival seasons.  Being a lungiwala, I prefer wearing a printed long skirt. 

My lucky Stars..